


The Gaudy Glow Of Neon Lights Dispels The Darkness Of The Nights

by liseuse



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-02
Updated: 2010-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liseuse/pseuds/liseuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"[A]ll of London seems to have turned out to descend on the shops and buy as much as they can possibly carry home."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gaudy Glow Of Neon Lights Dispels The Darkness Of The Nights

"I thought we were leaving rain behind when we left Scotland." Remus laughs as Sirius shakes himself, spattering rain water everywhere.

"Sometimes I think you spend too much time as Padfoot." Remus says, shuffling over to one of the kitchen drawers, careful of his leg, and rummages for one of the old paint-covered towels that James and Lily had donated to them when their decorating projects were done, in the hope that Sirius would take the hint and do something about the awful maroon paint that covered half their walls. Sirius had not taken the hint, from sheer laziness rather than anything else, despite declaring that the paint colour reminded him of his family's house.

"Lies, all lies. Do you think there is a reason for buses deciding to drive through the puddle that is right next to me? Because it happened at least nine times today, and I couldn't put up a waterproofing spell because I was in the middle of Muggle London and one random dry pedestrian would have looked really fucking odd. Bloody Regent Street. It was heaving." Sirius' position, collapsed onto the nearest kitchen chair with his head shoved between his knees, makes this all sound as if it's coming from a long way away.

"Oh for the love of. Don't do that," Remus says, groaning in exasperation as a puddle forms on the kitchen floor. "Just. Take your sodding trousers off."

Sirius leers and lowers his hand suggestively to his belt buckle as he sits upright. "Undressing me already, Moony? I've only been in the house five seconds. Of course I always knew you loved the smell of wet dog."

'Yes. I find the smell irresistible. Not, I might add, as irresistible as the idea of dry shoes and a dry kitchen floor. Just take your damn clothes off and dry yourself," Remus says, shaking his head and, holding onto the kitchen counter, limps over to the airing cupboard and grabs two towels.

Sirius grins as he catches the towels in mid-air. "How's the leg doing?" The last word is muffled as he draws his soaking jumper over his head. "Been bothering you?"

"Not as much as it could have been." Remus' smile is tight as he lowers himself into the opposite chair. "Except when I try and move, or stand or sit. It was a bloody nightmare getting to the grocers this afternoon."

"You went out?" Sirius demands, the task of removing his clothes forgotten, so he's sitting there irate but topless and with his fly undone. "I thought I told you I'd get the stuff we needed."

Remus looks around the kitchen enquiringly. "Are the bags under an invisibility spell? No? Right. Good thing I went out then. Don't worry. I was fine. I hobbled, very slowly, down to the grocers and then I sat there for a bit as Mrs Patel fussed over me, and then I hobbled very slowly home. An old lady helped me cross the road. It may have been the most humiliating experience of my life, and yes, I am counting that hideous two hours on Prongsie's stag do."

"I'd have gone back out for them. You know that. I was just tired and wet and pissed off. So I came home first." Remus has always marvelled at Sirius' face slightly, how it can go from amused to pissed off to remorseful in no time at all.

"I know. I just. I hate being cooped up in here. And yes, yes, yes, it's a perfectly lovely place to coop oneself up in, but when it's enforced cooping up, then it gets distressing. I just wanted a walk. To see people." Leaning forward slightly, Remus can slide a hand over the kitchen table, to where Sirius has one clenched in a fist. Carefully he places his over Sirius'. "I promise I didn't overdo it. Now, are you going to get undressed and into something warm and dry or do you want to catch pneumonia?"

"If I catch pneumonia I can stay here all day with you." Sirius' grin is childish and mischievous, and Remus remembers it as the herald to nine thousand bad ideas when they were younger, and as the precursor to something which is no less a bad idea than any of those were, but which is a lot more fun.

"Or you can go into the bedroom, put some dry clothes on and come and make dinner with me. And then you can take advantage of my relative immobility and have your wicked way with me." Remus winks slightly and feels Sirius' hand relax under his. Leaning back, he takes his hand away and watches as Sirius unfolds himself from the kitchen chair, which is of no useful height and captures everyone in its grasp. Even Sirius can't get out of it gracefully. "But first you can help me out of this damn chair."

"I am yours to command." Sirius leaves his fly undone, and reaches for Remus' hand. "Come on," he says as he helps Remus up, "can't have you stuck there all evening, can I."

\--

  
It's a week later and Remus' leg is better. The gash has healed completely and only a scar remains to tell the tale of a miscast spell and a quick, alarming, burst of pain. He's walking down the road, headed for the library and enjoying the sensation of walking properly. Not limping or shuffling, and the only thing really bothering him is that Sirius hasn't been at home for three days. He's off on a mission of some kind and Remus is harbouring bad thoughts about this war malarkey, because from his viewpoint - stuck at home translating things, or occasionally meeting dubious men in even more dubious pubs to get distinctly dubious information, when nothing has really happened yet and Sirius and James are treating it all like a bit of a lark - the war hasn't made any impact on him particularly. Even his damn leg wasn't injured in anything exciting or interesting, but in a kerfuffle after a Quidditch match when a fight broke out and he thought he'd play peacekeeper. Last time he was going to try getting in between two raucous fans who'd been hitting the Firewhiskey pretty hard. It all seems distant and far off, and he can't help but wonder if this is how men thought when waiting for World War II to kick off, knowing they'd be called up but still going to work and coming home and going to the pub and placing bets on the horses. The streets are busy, it's the run-up to Christmas and all of London seems to have turned out to descend on the shops and buy as much as they can possibly carry home. Technically Remus knows this can't be true, that London has many different ethnic groups and religions and believers in it, that some people must be at home, doing something other than getting in his way, but right now it doesn't feel like it. He's almost sworn to give up on Christmas when he spots a familiar head of hair dashing across the street towards him. "Marlene!" He smiles and leans down to give her a peck on the cheek.

"Remus. How are you?" Marlene has this funny way of asking that question where her inflection always falls on the 'are' even if she isn't concerned you're on the brink of death, and it took Remus years to get used to it.

"Not bad, not bad. Off to the library. You? How was the interview?" He grabs her arm as her boots skid on the icy pavement, and stops her falling into the road. "Here, let me." He takes one of her bags off her and tries not to gasp in shock at how heavy it is as she lets out a relieved breath.

"Oh, you know. All right. I doubt I got it, though. There were a load of interchangeable-looking men in smart robes there being interviewed as well." Marlene smiles wryly and shrugs. "Can't hurt to keep trying though."

"So I hear." Remus twists his mouth in what could be mistaken for a smile if an onlooker was feeling charitable, and reaches around Marlene to press the button for the traffic lights. "Where are you headed?"

"The tube. I need to get home."

"The tube? My, aren't we becoming Muggle-ified!" Remus pokes her in the side with an elbow and then steps off the pavement to cross the road.

Marlene laughs, and cocks her head to one side so she can look up at Remus as she speaks. There's a curl escaping from her hat, and she looks like a particularly curious bird. "It saves trying to find somewhere to Apparate from, and I'm so tired that I don't think I'd make it home all in one piece. Plus, I've got a book I want to finish and Dorcas' sister is staying. There's not an inch of free space or quiet to be found at the moment and I want to get in some quality time with myself." She looks resigned and, Remus realises, deeply tired. He's seen Marlene and Dorcas' flat, and it's tiny. One reasonable bedroom, one tiny one and a pitiful excuse for a living room and kitchen.

"Not going well?" He raises an eyebrow, and watches as Marlene struggles with what to say in response. She's always been charmingly unable to really hide her feelings, and he can see from the red tips of her ears that things are difficult.

"I don't know." Marlene slumps a little, her shoulders drooping alarmingly, and then she puts a sort of smile back on her face and keeps moving forward. "I have nothing against Dinah, but it's knackering. Plus, I can't get used to sleeping in that small bedroom. I offered her it, you know, and she refused. Said she wouldn't feel right taking my room, that I shouldn't have to sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good bed going spare, and then I realised there was no way to say I'd just bunk up with Dorcas and not make it sound odd. Because of course the flatmate would take the couch. So now I'm in that room, Dorcas is in hers and no one gets a minute's peace because Dinah is always there. She sings. In the morning. And hums when she's not talking."

"Ugh." Remus pulls a face. "Sirius sings in the shower. Or at least he used to. He was singing something loudly and badly once and I threatened to put hair dye in the shower if he didn't shut the fuck up. Now he just hums. I'm sure it's better. But it doesn't always feel it."

"Oh well. Just another two days to go, and then she's off to spend Christmas with her mother and I can have some bloody free space in my own home." Marlene grins, obviously thrilled at the prospect, and relieves Remus of her bag. "Right, here I am. Best get on the tube and go home to face the music. Literally."

"Take care, my dear. I'm sure you'll get through." Remus winks kindly as he leans down to give her a hug.

"You too. He'll come home safe you know, he always does. Think he must be charmed."

"Either that or it's the luck of the devil." Remus smiles, a little tightly, and waves as Marlene propels herself into the hustle and bustle of the tube station steps and then, turning back onto the pavement proper, goes back to the crossing so he can head back towards the library.

\--

  
It's eight thirty a.m. when Remus rolls over and bashes the alarm into submission. He can hear Sirius warbling along to the radio in the kitchen, and he wonders why Sirius isn't doing that frantic dash round the kitchen that is usual at this time of the morning on a weekday. One of the only benefits, he thinks sleepily, to being underemployed by your old headmaster is that the day can start whenever. Sirius, however, spends most of his life being late for things, usually work, and the Healers are not impressed by it. Sort of hurling himself to one side of the bed is Remus' usual manner of getting up, and it works. In a way. It occasionally results in interesting bruises and once resulted in a very embarrassing _trip crash thud_ over a towel that Sirius had left on the bedroom floor, but this time at least he manages it with a modicum of grace and stumbles sleepily into the kitchen. "Why are you still here?"

"Good morning!" Sirius says, far too brightly for the time the clock is showing. "Got the day off, remember."

"Ah." Remus thinks he might remember this. "You told me last night?" He hazards a guess and reaches greedily for the mug that Sirius is pushing into his hands. "Oh, tea, thank you."

"I did indeed mention it last night. I also mentioned that we were going Christmas shopping, so get your arse in gear and have a shower." Sirius grins, and runs a hand through his still-damp hair. "We don't want to be beaten to all the good presents, now do we?"

"Couldn't have that," Remus mumbles and then jolts his head up. "Shopping? Christmas? Today?"

The kitchen rings slightly with Sirius' laugh which is, Remus thinks, all a little too much to bear when you've been awake approximately ten minutes. "Yes. Today. It has to be today because we need to give James and Lil their presents the day after tomorrow. They're going to Lil's parent's for Christmas actual, remember. And we need to get Meda and Ted and Nymph something because they're going to Ted's parent's." Sirius looks a little downcast at that. "In fact I think it might just be you and me left in London for Christmas. Bit sad really."

"Pete'll be here surely." Remus lifts his head and nabs a piece of toast off Sirius' plate. He doesn't actually like it cremated like Sirius, but he can't be bothered to make his own and the last time he asked Sirius to make him some there was a blazing row and Sirius actually uttered the words "I am not a fucking girl" so loud that their downstairs neighbour banged on her ceiling and told them, none too politely, to shut up.

"Nope. Going home because he missed it last year." Sirius thwaps Remus' hand as he reaches for another piece of toast. "Get your own, you lazy sod. His mum was most upset about it so he promised to be there this year."

"Well, I know Dorcas and Marlene are around. It's Dorcas' sister's turn to go to the family home." Remus rubs his hand slightly; Sirius is a lot stronger than he thinks he is, especially in the mornings. It's one of the things Remus fell for, really. That careless and easy way Sirius has of existing as a physical thing. "We could do something with them." He knows this'll be a winning idea. Sirius loves Dorcas even if he can't work out how quite to take Marlene and her campaigning and effervescence. Dorcas is dry and sarcastic and likes to yell at the Quidditch matches on the radio whilst Remus and Marlene talk about the 'other' and theories of exclusion.

Sirius nods, and smiles. "Good plan. Now go and get your bloody shower. We need to be out of here soon. I have a plan of attack."

"Attack. Good. I'll just go and shower then." Remus stretches out of his chair and, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes, leans over Sirius as he passes and kisses his forehead. "Plans, honestly."

\--

  
Then, all of a sudden, it's Christmas Eve and the streets are empty. Earlier they were packed, and Remus was suppressing the desire to throttle someone as he came home from seeing his mum. Now, as he and Sirius meander down the road, they're empty. The lights are shining above them, people's windows showing scenes of Christmas bliss and he looks round, carefully, and seeing no one, slips his hand into Sirius' pocket. It's a minor thank you for Sirius agreeing to go to Mass and see Dorcas and Marlene in the morning rather than this evening. Instead they've spent the day putting up a tree, putting presents under it and singing along to the radio as it played carols and bad Christmas music. As Sirius sang along to Adeste Fideles and shook icing sugar over mince pies Remus had taken his hand and swung him into the middle of the living room, the table having been pushed aside to make room for the tree. As the song came to its end Remus had reached over and flicked the radio off, and leaned into Sirius. They had stood, bathed in the light of the tree, and listened to the sounds of London outside their window, the cars honking their horns and the buses screeching into life. The chatter of revellers as they staggered up the road, and then the soft sound of snow falling onto the windowsill.

"Happy Christmas," Remus had muttered into Sirius' shoulder.

"Happy Christmas, to those we know, have known and will know. To all the dead and all the living." Sirius had smiled and pressed an almost chaste kiss on Remus' forehead.


End file.
